


Hidden Treasure

by SinceYouAskedMeForATaleOf



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Identities, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Plot(s), Comfort, Drama, Eye Trauma, Falling In Love, Groping, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Injury Recovery, Kylo Amidala, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Past Abuse, Poisoning, Rescue, Senator Ben Solo, Slavery, this has gotten away from me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:13:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinceYouAskedMeForATaleOf/pseuds/SinceYouAskedMeForATaleOf
Summary: In a muddy marketplace on Arkanis a broken down cyborg almost past its prime still has an ounce of sympathy for others, even if it is just a slave itself. A moment of feeling and the lives of two people are changed forever...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jathis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/gifts).



> For this [Soft Kylux Prompt](https://softkyluxkinks.tumblr.com/post/165517606375/can-we-have-some-soft-clan-techiekylo-or-ben)
> 
> I hesitate to call this 'slow burn' but it'll be slower than most ABO fics. The rating is for safety's sake, I'm not sure how explicit this one will get. The focus is definitely on SOFT.

Kylo’s robes swirled around his boots, the hems heavy with mud from the filthy marketplace. 

It was the first break in the rain in almost ten days and the people of Arkanis were out in force, eager to get their commerce done in relatively dry conditions. 

Pure sunlight was a true rarity on this forsaken backwater planet. Drizzle still fell in blustery showers, driving the crowds to flow from one covered alleyway of stalls to the next, and unnoticed Kylo followed their path.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, though he had heard that the local pearls were just the sort of thing Ben would appreciate. 

No, Kylo came to the market to see. To see the people the Senate forgot about because their celebrity kept them from mingling with the masses. To see the way the common people interacted, the way they expressed their frustrations, the way they thought of their leaders when they imagined them to be light years away.

Arkanis was in the Outer Rim, long forgotten by the majority of the Republic, operating as a nasty hybrid of oligarchy and military junta. The schemes of the separatists had failed four decades ago but out here at the edges of the galaxy it was still possible to run on the fumes of that failed uprising.

If he was to do any good here, if he was to make any real difference, then he must know how the people felt - not just the meaningless platitudes Moff Hux tried to feed him. 

So far he’d noticed little of interest. 

The situation was much as he’d expected- the population in the capital city was mostly human and it was mostly focusing on staying alive on a planet that wasn’t entirely suited to it. The atmosphere was too wet, with the wrong mix of chemicals for optimal health. The elite could thrive here, but the rest…

He had never worked to develop his telepathic abilities. The visions he’d seen as a child had been enough to keep him from the path of the Force, but emotions and surface thoughts were easy to read, and nearly impossible to block out at times. The minds of this planet were as dull and wet as the weather. 

Drudgery and misery and bone deep weariness. No one here cared enough to make a move against the Republic, no one here even cared enough to make a move against the stallholders overcharging them for ration packs. 

A little aid here could do so much good. If he could get past the sizable roadblock that was Brendol Hux.

A flicker of something caught his attention, in a dead-end alleyway off to his left. 

Kylo stood for a moment, letting the dark curtains of his hair screen the exact angle of his gaze as the damp crowds swirled around him like a river around a rock. 

Three stalls- a fabric merchant, selling more rags than bolts of decent goods; a droid reseller with piles of rusting wares; a jeweller.

A literal pearl amongst swine, the jeweller’s stall shone with string after string of the lustrous gems in every colour the human eye could perceive. Cascades of white and cream; shimmering oil slick blacks; green and gold and red…

Kylo wasn’t immune to the lure of beauty. Outwardly he remained stoic and blank-faced but inwardly he was biting his lip. Those blue pearls, as dark and glorious as space itself, how fine they’d look around Ben’s throat. Sewn into the neckline of his robes to highlight the pale glow of his sculpted chest. Woven through his hair…

He was standing in front of the stall before he’d even realised he intended to move.

A string of four hundred pearls, with a price tag that was more than might be needed to fed this whole city for a day, but so beautiful.

The stallholder was a Toydarian, and immune to Kylo’s mental abilities. He tried to keep the disappointment from his face- non-humans were rare in the human areas of Arkanis. It might have benefited him to explore the thoughts of sure a being.

Just as he pulled off his gloves to inspect the merchandise more closely a strange sound broke his concentration. 

The whirring of a mechanism that had seen better days, something that was so hindered by rust or grime that it grated across his senses even as it grated against itself. 

Kylo looked up but saw nothing but the frowning merchant and his his wares.

Behind him were the stalls apparently selling fabric and droid parts, neither being of any particular quality. Sitting in the mud precisely between the two was a filthy heap of yellow rags and brown fur. They couldn’t even be bothered to store their goods out of harm’s way. Definitely a sign of how sick the society of Arkanis had become.

Just as he turned back to the pearls under his fingers the strange noise sounded again.

_ Poor man, _ a voice thought with soft compassion,  _ he doesn’t know they’re fake. The Toydarian will sell him dyed pearls and they’ll stain his lover’s skin. _

Kylo turned again, reaching out with the Force as carefully as he could in search of the voice and the whirring noise. Something told him the two were related. 

He felt pain, bright and red and aching, for an instant before he snatched his senses back.

“You want them or not?” The Toydarian snapped, clearly agitated that Kylo was looking around.

On impulse Kylo licked a thumb and reached out toward the pearls.

The alien might have been small but his grip was firm when he stopped Kylo’s hand. 

“I changed my mind, they’re not for sale.”

He could argue. He could threaten to call whatever passed for the local police, if Arkanis even had laws about selling fake jewels to foreigners, but that would risk exposure. And besides, he still wanted to find the source of that voice, and that pain.

_ Walk away, oh please walk away, if he gets mad he’ll bring the rest of the market down on you,  _ the voice pleaded.  _ You lost no money and suffered no harm, oh please beautiful man, walk away. _

That made Kylo’s decision for him. If his presence was distressing the other person…

“Fine,” he said gruffly and turned to walk away.

Newcomers had entered the alley while he was look at the pearls. The press of bodies forced him to walk closer to the droid parts stall than he had intended. Something soft crunched underfoot.

“Ow!” 

The pain flared brilliant across his senses then, even without any conscious effort to feel it.

Beside his feet the pile of rags and fur shifted to become a dishevelled man clutching a hand to his chest. 

Heavy metal chains clattered dully as he moved, but the noise wasn’t quite enough to drown out the whirring Kylo had heard before.

Just visible under the matts of filthy brown hair was a pair of brilliant blue cybernetic eyes, scarred with rust and surrounded by sickly pink inflammation.

“You break the merchandise, you pay for it,” the scarred woman behind the stall snapped almost on autopilot as she woke from her doze with a start. 

Kylo stared down at the man in blank-faced horror, taking in the mess of his eyes; the swelling of his mouth; the manacles at wrists and ankles; the old blood marring his filthy yellow shirt; the unnatural angle of two of his fingers.

Pain and embarrassment were flooding out of the man as he held his ruined hand to his chest. 

_ The beautiful man is in trouble because of me, I can’t even exist in the presence of beauty without ruining everything, this is all my fault, Ma-Ma will kill him if… _

Kylo was on his knees and peering at the man in concern before he’d even properly processed the unpleasant woman’s words. He could feel his grip slipping. This kind of sympathy sat uncomfortably in Kylo’s chest like a ball of shrapnel. Caring like this was not his way.

The man was shaking, rust orange tears forming in his eyes while his lips seemed to be trying to form words. 

Nausea filled Kylo’s stomach at the glimpse of the inside of the man’s mouth- all his teeth had been crudely broken away.

“Don’t you touch it!” She was shouting now, leaning over the edge of her stall to glare down at him with rage in her eyes. 

Around them the market had turned quiet as the grave.

So much for going abroad unnoticed. Exposure was inevitable if he didn’t think fast.

“You just said I had to pay, do you expect me to buy a slave without an inspection?”

“Yes!” She hissed. “If you didn’t want to buy it ‘as is’ then you should have looked where you were walking!”

Arkanis had no tradition of slavery that he knew of, but it also had no laws against it either. 

Unlike the Republic-aligned worlds, slave owners could pass comfortably through the ports here without the local laws granting their slaves freedom the instant they touched solid ground. 

Thanks to his grandfather’s childhood, the rights of slaves was a major focus in the politics of Ben’s family. It would break his heart to see a man so ill treated, and harmed by his own hand too. Kylo couldn’t leave him here.

“How much?”

The woman named a price that most Arkanian families wouldn’t see in a decade. Ben could easily afford it, but still it was an extortionate amount for such a broken, abused man…

“It’s an Omega. Guaranteed untouched too.”

Kylo blinked at her. Male Omegas were so rare they were practically a legend. He couldn’t possibly be…

He turned and looked at the man who was now trying to fold in on himself as if he could vanish. Nothing but shame emanated from him now.

_ Come on, pay up, let me get rid of the fucking useless thing, _ the woman was thinking impatiently,  _ it’s nearly 35, past it’s best and damaged to boot, it’s worthless as a functional slave, only holds its value while it’s unbred AND fertile, all does is eat my food and… _

There was bile at the back of his throat. Bought and sold as a precious commodity but abused for the very act of staying alive.

Kylo reached into his pocket and handed over a bag with a twist of his hand. “Here’s all the money you want.”

Metal jingled as the woman weighed the bag in her hand. “Yes, this is all the money I want.”

“You’ll give me the keys to his chains.”

The keys were thrown to him blindly without any hesitation. He’d never done this kind of mind control under this much jeopardy, but Kylo was beginning to feel his heart sing at the success of his Force manipulations. 

Horror soon replaced the elation and Kylo felt his control beginning to unravel. The chains were just as corroded as the man’s eyes, and they’d been on him so long that they’d bitten into his flesh, even through the fabric of his shirt sleeves.

He doubted the man could stand, and besides- time was of the essence. Eventually the woman would open the pouch and see the two dozen silver buttons inside.

Ben exercised for aesthetic reasons, but Kylo trained for strength and speed. It was a simple matter to haul with thin man into his arms and walk away through the crowd. 

Running was a little harder to manage when the first angry shout went up, but adrenaline and fear for his new charge kept him moving.

As he ran through the crowds towards the Senator for Naboo’s diplomatic ship, Kylo felt the gentle nudge of the man’s nose against his jawline.

Thankfulness radiated from the man’s mind, along with something else.

_ I’ve never smelled an Alpha before. How perfect he is… _


	2. Chapter 2

Not for the first time in his life Ben was immensely grateful that his security detail knew him so well. 

They’d been trained by his grandmother’s own handmaidens to expect all kinds of rebellious behaviour, though he at least had no intention of secretly marrying anyone like she had done.

Still, they’d hardly even blinked at the sight of ‘Kylo Ren’ running through the busy spaceport with a ragged man cradled in his arms. 

Consummate professionals to an entity, they’d immediately split up and caused more than enough of a diversion for him to get safely to his ship long before the stallholder arrived shouting for restitution. 

She wouldn’t get a penny more from anyone for this so-called Omega. 

A Senator’s ship counted as sovereign territory- as long as he was onboard the man was not a slave and once they left atmosphere he’d be free for good. 

Arkanis might not have laws against slavery but they had no laws about the theft of slaves either. They had few laws about anything at all that didn’t benefit the wealthy. It was a horrible little planet. 

“I need a medic,” He said once the doors had closed behind his pilot. “For him, not for me.” He added when the young Twi'lek looked alarmed.

The man was looking at him curiously and Ben realised his voice had slipped from Kylo’s gruff halting tones to the accent he used in the Senate. Kylo always seemed to escape him when he was amongst friends.

“I can take you back to the diplomatic quarter to get an Arkanian medic,” she replied after a moment on the comms, “but the others will have to catch up on foot.” 

“No. I don’t want to risk anyone else seeing him. Not yet. We can wait.”

Despite the difference in age and species his pilot gave him a look that was 100% Leia. 

He sighed. He hated that look. “Come on now, Ayy, don’t look at me like that! I rescued him, I just want to know more before I risk this whole mission for him.”

There was no ‘if’ in that sentence. They both knew that Ben would do it. 

His grandmother had risked war with Tattooine just to get her mother-in-law back from slavers, and had ended up bringing home a new father-in-law with her as well. There was a family history of heroic but foolish decisions. 

Ben wasn’t going to be the one to break with tradition.

A wave of discomfort reminded him that the man was still huddled against the bulkhead by his feet. 

“Get ready for take off, Teleer can take a look at him once we’re in the air.” He said decisively, referring to one of his more senior personal guards who was also a qualified field medic. Teleer would at least be able to assess the man’s condition if nothing else. 

Ben waited until Ayy was fully engrossed in her task before he sat down on the deck a few feet from his guest.

“What’s your name?” He couldn’t keep on thinking of him as ‘the man’. His etiquette tutors would be proud of him for feeling a little guilty about ‘buying’ a sentient being without even knowing their name.

The question triggered a spiral of panic so strong that Ben felt it tugging at his own consciousness, like it could drag him down as so much driftwood. He’d rarely felt anything so strong without a hint of the Force behind it. The sensation was strange.

_ Name? I don’t remember my name, I was just a kid, they don’t call me anything, just the product, the merchandise, the broken, worthless…. _

“Hey.” Ben snapped. Without a thought he reached out and pinched sharply at the side of the man’s neck to break the vortex of fear. 

The man flinched at the touch but at least he looked up. It was easier to make him concentrate with eye contact, even if it was vaguely unpleasant to look directly at those strange rust coloured tears. 

Certain that he had his attention, Ben continued more gently, “I don’t mean to upset you with my questions. I just want to help you, and I have the means to help you. I won’t hurt you, or send you back to whoever did this. I won’t let anyone do anything to you that you do not want, I promise.”

The man sighed.  _ Beautiful words, beautiful face, but who is he to deny the universe? _

That made Ben’s heart clench. How had this broken man felt compassion for him, a complete stranger in little more than financial peril, when his own suffering was so overwhelming?

Behind them both the airlock hissed open just enough for the rest of Ben’s retinue to tumble inside. An instant later there was the telltale lurch of takeoff. Ayy was an excellent pilot.

\-----

Ben sat at the mirror in his quarters and silently stripped away the last remnants of Kylo Ren.

Things had not gone well once the Omega was moved into a private room to be examined. He had panicked all over again at the press of people and the unwanted touches. 

Attempts to clean him enough to inspect his wounds had failed until Ben had volunteered to support him in the shower stall himself. The others had objected, insisting that the man might harbour all kinds of diseases, and that to stand - even fully clothed - in proximity to such an individual was an insult to his office. 

Ben had ignored them and done it willingly. He half wished he hadn’t. The water had loosened the dried blood enough for the man’s clothes to be pulled away, but it had also reopened his wounds. 

He wasn’t sure when the man had lost consciousness, or whether it was from blood loss or fatigue. He should have noticed. He should have sensed the change from all encompassing pain into unconscious. 

But while the water washed away the filth and dirt, the man’s real scent had begun to breakthrough and Ben had lost track of everything else. 

Every human knew the rumour that Omegas smelled amazing, but few had ever seen one to know if the tale were true. 

Ben hated himself that he’d fallen prey to that legendary scent so quickly. 

Prince Ben Amidala, Senator for Naboo, the man who’d broken a million hearts, had been helpless to resist the smell of a rescued slave.

_ That _ was an insult to the dignity of his office. 

Finally clean and naked in the front of the mirror he stared at his own reflection in disgust. 

He had done nothing to the man but hold him steady until the others could lift him out of the cubicle. He’d forced down every instinctively lewd thought and he’d bitten his cheek until the taste of blood filled his mouth. But it still didn’t seem like enough.

No amount of scrubbing at his skin seemed to be able to shift the scent of him, or the feeling of his fear at the back of Ben’s mind, and the watery blood on his hands. The figure in the mirror was spotless- skin shaved, waxed and oiled; long hair brushed free of Kylo’s knots and braids; nails and teeth polished to perfection. But still Ben felt dirty that he’d witnessed the other man’s pain without being able to stop it.

Something in his heart was remonstrating with him for failing to heal the man instantly, something else was livid that he couldn’t stop thinking about that smell. How could he be so coarse to think of attraction at a time like this?

He selected a brush and reached for the brilliant white of the foundation. Tonight he would have to be… stark. Yes. He’d publicly mourn for the loss of his control.

\-----

RE: Unknown Male Omega 

The patient has suffered multiple injuries, some dating back a significant number of years. Deep scarring to wrists, ankles, and back. Two broken fingers. Broken jaw. All adult teeth broken or extracted. Faulty optical implants. Malnourishment.

The jaw has been set but the eeth will have to be surgically replaced. Bacta may be effective for the scarring but total immersion cannot be risked while current implants remain in place. However removal must not be attempted without reference to experts in the ocular field. Advise patient be transferred to Naboo as soon as possible. 

Taleer Gahn - Medic

\-----

This evening’s party was supposed to be the prime opportunity to gain ground on the negotiations but Ben couldn’t concentrated. 

Ben stared at a point between the ears of the two men standing opposite him. If that meant he was staring at his own reflection, well, it would only help his reputation in the Galaxy. 

His mother was practical. Stylish in a lowkey, understated way. 

He was not his mother.

Well, they did say somethings skipped a generation. Extravagance was one of them. 

Everyone in the senate, everyone who ever dealt with him, knew Senator Amidala was a peacock. His grandmother had had more of an excuse for her elaborate clothing, she had been Queen for a while after all, but Ben had found he needed no excuse to appear the way he did.

He was a large man, muscular and carefully refined, with a biting wit and a habit of knowing what a person was going to say long before they said it. Together it was a combination that meant he could do pretty much what he liked. And what he liked was excess.

Tonight he was wearing a concoction of velvet, black feathers and jet beads, open to below the navel but for a ‘modesty’ panel of black mesh that did nothing to hide the rippling outline of his chest and abs. He looked pale, ethereal, beautiful, and entirely vapid.

It was a common trick for use again common, foolish people. A man like Brendol Hux saw him and assumed there wasn’t a thought in his head but for jewels and finery. A more intelligent man might wonder how had he reached his position in the senate when he represented a multispecies planet where sex appeal had less power.

Brendol Hux was not an intelligent man. A nasty, vindictive, cunning and spiteful little man, certainly, but he lacked the brainpower for galactic politics. No doubt that was why he remained on Arkanis- a small fish in a miniscule pond.

Ben smiled to himself at that thought, filing it carefully away for future use. 

He’d stopped listening to Hux twenty minutes earlier. It seemed from the younger Hux’s air of boredom that Brendol’s son had done the same. 

How often had he… Armitage wasn’t it?... How often had Armitage listened to this exact same self aggrandizing monologue? More than a few dozen times certainly.

The younger Hux was excellent at maintaining a poker face but between the odd microexpressions shifting across his face and the pattern of his thoughts it was clear that he could almost recite the speech word for word. 

What a tedious life they must lead.

Armitage shifted slightly, adjusting his footing, and the candelabra behind his head illuminated his hair like a halo. 

Dark gel slicked locks shone copper and radiant gold, catapulting Ben’s mind back to that fateful shower earlier in the day.

The slave he’d rescued had been unspeakably filthy, with long ragged hair so matted with mud and dried blood that it appeared dark brown, but once it was clean it had seemed a sort of auburn that would no doubt dry a lighter shade.

Red hair was rare, galactically speaking. There were a few genetic pools where it was more common, but here on Arkanis Ben had only seen it on the slave and the two men in front of him.

His mind drifted, wrapped up in the memory of that smell again.

“Drink, Sir?” 

The waiter was as tall as Ben, and just as sharp featured, though his mop of blonde hair was tangled beyond even Kylo’s artful tresses. He was aiming the tray carefully at Brendol, who wasn’t paying attention.

“And of course, Armitage here, as my only beloved son, has done everything possible…” 

There was a lie to that sentence that sent Ben’s skin crawling, though he couldn’t see where it sat. He found he couldn’t really care.

A overwhelming sense of wrongness was flooding his system. He suddenly felt like he should be somewhere, anywhere else. 

As Brendol took the offered glass, Ben reached out carefully with the Force to tilt the tray. 

He’d hoped for a distraction, an opportunity to step away from the conversation without offending the man who sadly still held the key to a successful negotiation.

Instead the glasses tipped in such a way that they caught the stem of Brendol’s own glass, sloshing half the contents across Ben’s chest. The deep purple liquid couldn’t stain the black gown in the same way as it ruined Brendol’s dress whites but it left a terrible mess. 

Brendol turned on the waiter, instantly apoplectic with rage.

In the same moment Armitage stepped up to Ben’s side with an eagerly felicitous expression.

“Here, let me help you, you can get dry in my office,” he said, grabbing Ben’s arm so hard it might bruise, “please, this way.”

Ben wanted to object. He was larger, and far, far stronger than the younger Hux, but he could feel a certain kind of anxiety radiating off him in a way that made him both intrigued, and concerned for his own safety. 

The party had ground to a halt around them, everyone staring at the spectacle of Moff Hux screaming at the awkward waiter who was just as equally covered in purple wine as himself. Still, some of the crowd took the time to wink or nod at Armitage as he led Ben through the throng.

What a pair they must look, Ben thought. Armitage was neatly turned out in an austere, razorsharp military uniform, all shiny black boots and upright bearing. Ben in a glittering gown, cut to show off his thick muscular arms and sculpted chest. 

In a way they almost looked like they were wearing one another’s clothes. If not for Ben’s complex traditional makeup and headdress of course. But still, in terms of build…

The door to Armitage’s office had barely closed behind them before Ben was pushed firmly up against it. A thigh had been inserted with gross familiarity between his own and thin cold hands were clawing painfully at his chest. 

“We need to get you out of that dress!” 

“Hey, stop that!” Ben tried to catch either of Armitage’s hands but he was too late. 

The whole front panel of the gown tore away with a loud ripping sound.

\-----

He opened his eyes find himself in a white room with a soft white bed and warm white lights. Charmed by the dream he let himself drift in it for a while, appreciating the cushions beneath his back and the lack of pain in his limbs.

Ma-Ma would kick him awake soon. He’d wake to find himself back in that alleyway, or huddled in the corner of her workshop, where the roof leaked and he he could never find a place dry enough to sleep.

Somewhere outside the room someone was singing. It was a gentle inhuman sound, a song he vaguely recognised from the spaceport on those rare occasions that Ma-Ma dragged him there to meet prospective buyers. He had no idea what it meant, but the pilots sang it sometimes and it made him dream of freedom.

He stretched and yawned, wincing at the splitting of his dry lips and tongue. His mouth filled with the taste of blood, proving the dream wasn’t all that beautiful after all. 

Still, his arms moved freely. It was rare for Ma-Ma to give him so much chain, not after the last time he tried to choke himself with it at least. That was a nice detail.

He looked down at his hands, oblivious to the tortured whirring of his eyes. There were no chains. He was dressed in a flowing yellow shirt. There were bandages around both his wrists, and three of his fingers were splinted together.

The fingers reminded him of something. A beautiful face that had nearly been swindled by that Toydarian with the dodgy pearls. A broad strong figure with dark hair and so many moles he looked like a smuggler’s starmap.

He sat up then. 

There were no chains on him. None at all. His ankles had been bandaged as well as his wrists, his clothes and hair were clean for the first time in what might have been years.

The beautiful person had bought him. 

The beautiful person had carried him away from Ma-Ma and he’d smelled so so good.

There’d been pain and fear for a while, a jumble of things he couldn’t remember but… he’d been bought.

His hands flew instinctively to his underwear, searching for any sign that he’d been touched. He’d know wouldn’t he? Surely he’d know. Ma-Ma had taken great pleasure in describing how terrible it would be, so he must be able to tell…

There was no pain there. No blood or dampness that he could find. 

He touched his neck. It was whole and unscarred, though it ached a little over the slightly raised gland. 

He hadn’t been bonded, as far as he could tell he hadn’t been bred, he’d just been healed.

The door opened. 

The man standing on the other side wasn’t his owner, but he knew he was safe with him, somehow. 

\-----

Teleer leaned against the bulkhead listening to Ayy bitching about docking fees, while also keeping one eye on the Omega.

The little man was stuffing his face like a tooka thought it’s master would take the bowl away before it was done. 

Teleer half anticipated having to save the man from choking to death at this rate. Especially given the state of his teeth. 

Suddenly there was a clang of metal on metal. 

The man had thrown his plate onto the console, and launched himself at the Twi’lek pilot while she completed the post landing checks outside the Moff’s mansion. 

No one had been expecting him to attack. He looked so meek and unassuming. 

There was several minutes of chaos before the rest of the Senator’s guard joined them and brought him under control.

The final tableau saw the Omega being held by three guards. Although tears ran freely down his face, he refused to release the pilot’s wrist from his grip.

“Let him go,” Ayy said at last, looking from her hand to the console.

“Why?”

“Because he just stopped me from blowing up the ship.”

If anything the chaos worsened. 

“No, no I don’t mean intentionally!” Ayy shouted, shaking off the hands now reaching for her own shoulders with a sharp flick of her lekku. “I mean I didn’t notice there was a warning light on the dampeners here and here, and another on the shield array.”

Teleer peered over her shoulder at the place she pointed toward. “I don’t see any warning lights.”

“No, exactly, the connection has failed so the lights are very dim. You can’t see them at all, I can only see them if I turn my head in just the right way. I guess his eyes are just really good.” She turned to look at him, frowning at the whirring of his eyes. “Even if they sound like shit.”

The skinny little man nodded shyly and then pointed at something under the console. 

A panel had come loose, only one screw out of four actually connecting with the main wall. Someone had thrown their boots under there, and one buckle was tangled in the wiring.

Ayy made an irritated noise through her nose and slapped out at one of the other guards. 

“How many times have I told you not to leave anything in the cockpit!?!”

Teleer cut in, “I want to know how this kid knew that particular sequence was dangerous.” 

All eyes turned to focus on the Omega. He curled up in the jump seat, watching them through the strands of long orange hair that hung around his face.

“Well? How do you know so much about the J-Type?”

The gesture the man made in response was long and complicated, pointing to various parts of the control panel in turn, then his eyes and then his head.

“I guess you forgot he couldn’t talk?” Ayy asked sarcastically as Teleer flushed with embarrassment. “He makes a good point though- any ship with this set up, in these conditions, would be in danger. I think he’s just a bit of a techie.”

The man smiled shyly at that last statement, nodding his head so his hair swung around him. 

“Well, either way I’ll feel happier if we keep him under guard and away from the electronics until the boss gets back,” Teleer said, his stern tone a clear cover for his chagrin. “Come on ‘techie’, this way…”

\-----

One moment Armitage was tearing at his gown, the next he was on the far side of the room, plunging his hands in the pitcher of water that stood behind the desk. The torn fabric had been thrown aside onto the carpet like an afterthought.

Ben stepped forward, seething with rage and determined to shake some answers from the creature who’d actually thought he could manhandle a member of the senate, when…

The splash of water echoed through the silent room like a slap.

Ben stood, arms outstretched and shaking, staring down at his soaked front. On the other side of the desk Armitage was similarly frozen, the pitcher still outstretched and dripping the last of its contents slowly onto the floor.

“You…” Ben couldn’t articulate the thought. He couldn’t actually bring himself to say ‘you threw a pitcher of water at me’ because the very concept was asinine. No one would ever,  _ ever  _ even think of doing something so stupid…

Hux recovered first, brushing a hand over the crisp strands of his hair as he returned the pitcher to its proper place. That done he held out a hand towel.

“Senator, you’ll want to dry your skin as quickly as possible, you don’t want to leave any residue.”

In the horror of being groped and having his clothes ruined - twice - Ben had quite forgotten about the initial incident with the wine. 

He scrubbed fitfully at his skin while he watched Armitage scoop up the torn piece of fabric with a letter opener and toss both into the open fire behind the desk.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked. He could barely read anything from the man now, nothing but an edgy kind of excitement, like a pot that wanted to boil over but the lid had been clamped down.

Armitage sighed. “I’m afraid I’m destroying evidence, Senator. Now, it would be in your best interest to come home with me tonight. Everyone here knows how easy you’re supposed to be, if we make a good enough show of things, everyone will remember when we left.”

Ben bristled at the tone, and the attack on his morals, but most of all he listened to the warning alarm sounding in his head. “Why is it important that people remember that?”

“So that they can give us an alibi when my father drops dead in three hours time.”


End file.
